


I just wanted to be a Superhero

by Scytheress



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Also Hurt Cas, Alternate Universe - Foster Family, F/F, F/M, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Please don't take the Archive warnings lightly, Savior Cas, This one gets real dark you guys, everyone is hurt, there is light at the end of the tunnel, this fic hurts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-10-16 15:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17551982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scytheress/pseuds/Scytheress
Summary: Young Dean is given a choice: To give up baby Sammy, or give up his dad.  When he decides to leave them both and go into foster care so Sam can stay with John, he didn't understand the tragedy that might await him.  All that mattered was that the family was going to be together.  Some day, dad would come back for him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Maternal death, alcohol abuse, child separation

The Winchester household had been the perfect picture of domesticity. John, a retired marine and well-known mechanic. He could fix anything from high-tech tractors to a 1935 Mercedes-Benz. Mary was his beautiful wife. She was a horrible cook, but her gardening skills were next to none. The pair had two children, four-year-old Dean and new baby Samuel. 

Things began to change after Sam was born and Mary became sick. It had started with sharp stomach pains and her doctors told her it was normal to experience some discomfort after delivery, that it would pass with time. Six months down the line, the pain had only gotten worse and she had stopped eating. John was distraught trying to maintain his job and take care of his wife and two children.

Dean did his best to help. Warming up soup for his mom that she never ate. Mixing formula and feeding baby Sammy. It was difficult work for a young child but he was determined to take care of his brother and his mom.

It was late on a cool Spring night when Dean smelled smoke.

He rushed to his mom’s room where smoke was rolling out across the ceiling. John had gone to the garage to try to catch up on some of his work orders while the household slept so Dean knew it was up to him to save his family. He ran in and heard Sam crying. He didn’t see his mom, so he climbed up the crib and scooped up the swaddled bundle and ran for the front yard. The family had drills for what to do in the event of a fire. Get out of the house and assemble behind the car.

Dean cradled Sam to his chest, rocking him gently as he sat on the pavement. Mom knew the plan. She’d be out any moment. When fire trucks and ambulances finally appeared, Sam had fallen back asleep and Dean was rubbing smoke-stains from his eyes.

A paramedic approached the boys and Dean told them his mom was still inside. He couldn’t see the house from around his mom’s minivan, but he could hear all the voices and knew that the brave firefighters were going to get his mom out. The next sound Dean registered was his father’s pained screams.

Dean never saw his mom again.

\-----------

It was early Autumn and Dean found himself living in yet another motel. He had Sammy in a sling around his shoulder as he walked the small room. His dad was passed out on one of the double beds snoring, an empty bottle on its side on the ugly carpet. Dean was trying to feed Sam his morning bottle but he was being fussy so Dean had hoped walking around would help settle him. He learned early on his own small arms were too weak to hold the growing boy for too long so he’d fashioned a sling out of a bed sheet a few motels ago. The sheet had been much too long but the excess fell over his shoulders in a sort of cape. It let him pretend he was a superhero.

His task was interrupted by a knock on the door and Dean quickly tried to shush his baby brother. The sharp sound jolted John awake and the man sat up slowly, rubbing harshly at his face and week-old stubble. Dean stepped out of the way as his dad stumbled to the door and opened it a crack. There was some mumbling before the door was unlatched and fully opened to allow two women in prim black suits to enter.

One woman pulled John outside while the other, a petite red-head, moved and crouched in front of Dean. She had a kind smile, all teeth and the right side of her lips quirked higher than the left but Dean couldn’t find it in himself to reciprocate. It wasn’t the first time people in suits had stopped by and even little Dean was tired of their games.

The woman folded her arms on her knees, “Hi Dean, how are you?”

Dean’s small brow furrowed, “I’m fine. I’m try’n’a feed Sammy.” He held up the bottle in one hand and gestured to the baby as if it were obvious she was getting in the way of something important.

“Do you feed Sammy often?”

“Yes.” 

The woman gave a warm smile, “You love Sammy very much, don’t you?”

“Well, duh,” Dean rolled his eyes and the woman chuckled.

“How would you and Sammy like to come with me? We can take care of you.”

“No thanks, ma’am. I hav’a keep the family together,” Dean nodded and returned his attention to Sam, believing their conversation over. Wasn’t the first and likely not the last time he’d tell them ‘no.’

The woman didn’t move though. She pressed her lips together and cocked her head to the side, “Dean, when is the last time you ate?”

Dean’s head snapped up again, “Why does that mather?”

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“No.”

“Dean-”

The boy turned his back on the woman, “I’m busy now.”

The woman let out a sigh and stood. Dean heard some ruffling and a sharp click as something was placed on the table by the door.

“I’ll put my card here. If you ever need anything, Dean, please call me.”

A moment later, the woman was gone and his dad had returned. He looked spooked, continuously rubbing his neck and muttering. Dean had seen his dad have weird moods before so he focused on trying to get Sammy to take his bottle. A moment after he had finally gotten the baby to latch onto the rubber nib, John sank heavily onto one of the beds and beckoned them over.

“Wha’s up, dad?”

John ruffled his elder son’s hair, tears pricking at the sides of his eyes, “Are you happy here, son?”

Dean beamed up at him, “Mmhm!”

“What if Sammy wasn’t with us?”

The boy’s face blanched, his smile falling as he shook his head, “Sammy is family. Mom said the family has to s’ick together.”

John’s lips trembled, “I know, bud, but I don’t think that’s going to be possible.”

“WHY?”

“Shh, son, don’t upset the baby,” John tried to regain some semblance of composure. He rubbed at his mouth again and looked off to the far wall, over Dean’s head. “What if you went with Sammy?”

Dean was starting to shake, the nib falling out of Sam’s mouth, “You mean, if we left you?”

“Yes, if you and Sammy went to live somewhere else, with some nice people.”

“But… you’re _dad_. We live with you. The family s’ays together!” Dean stomped his foot. “Mom said -”

“I know what mom said!” John shot to his feet and started pacing, “God, Mary, he’s four.” He rubbed at his eyes, glancing back and forth from Dean and Sam to the door. He finally came to a stop in front of the portal and leaned a hand against the thin wood. His voice came out the ghost of a whisper, “Dean, I… I can’t keep you both. They’re waiting outside.”

Dean’s forehead creased in thought, trying and failing to hold the bottle still as Sam began to whimper at the continued loss of the nib. “So you can only keep one of us? What happens to the other?”

“The other would go into foster care and get adopted by a new family.”

Dean’s young mind raced. Mom always said family was the most important thing in the world. As long as the family stayed together everything would be ok. Even if mom wasn’t there anymore, they had to stay together. Mom had said so.

“If…” Dean pressed his lips together and shifted them around as if trying to force the words out but not knowing which sounds to make, “Wh’if… could you adopt us if we went in fosser care?”

John huffed and turned toward his children, sitting back on the edge of the bed to be level with his son, “Maybe, but not for a long time.”

Dean’s eyes lit up at that, “Then you can keep Sammy and I’ll go with the fosser care! Then, you can come back and adopt me!”

“Dean…” John’s frown deepened, “that’s not exactly-”

“I’s fine, dad. I can do this. You keep Sammy and come back for me,” Dean forced the bottle into his dad’s hand and unslung Sam from around his neck carefully, cradling the bundle and passing him into his dad’s lap.

John’s eyes welled up as he scooped Sam into one arm and held the bottle in his other hand. He seemed almost frozen as Dean rushed around the room looking for his shoes and the teddy bear he had gotten from his mom last Christmas. He stopped again in front of John.

“Ok, Sammy,” Dean leaned forward and pulled the sheet away from the baby’s face. Sam was bordering on a breakdown, lower lip jutting out and hiccuping cries just starting. Dean placed his bear on top of Sam’s small body, “You take good care of Mr. Snuggles. He was a gift from mom so be gen’le. You prolly don’t remember mom, ‘cuz you’re a baby, but I’ll tell you aaaalllllll about her when I get back. Be good for dad, too. He gets sad somehimes but he will take real good care of you.” Dean leaned in a placed a sloppy kiss on the baby’s forehead.

John’s cheeks were wet when Dean stepped back.

“I’s ok, dad. You’ll come get me soon. I know you will!” He smiled as brightly as he could and John tried to return in kind but he had to bite his bottom lip. “You said they’re waiting ou’side, right?” Dean grabbed his small backpack with his coloring book and pencils for when they went out to eat and ran to the door. “I love you, dad.” He opened the door and slipped out.

The two women were standing beside a dark SUV, arms folded and talking quietly as Dean approached. They both turned to him when they noticed him and the red-head knelt down.

“What’s up, Dean?”

“I’m going to come with you so Sammy can s’ay with dad,” Dean smiled, proud of himself for making a smart decision.

“Oh?”

“Yeah! Dad said he can’t keep us both but one day he could adopt me again, so I’m gonna go to fosser care,” Dean nodded.

“Is that so?”

“Dean!”

The boy whipped around as John came barrelling out of the motel room and swept him up in a fierce hug. Dean laughed as they whirled around, arms tight around his father’s neck. When they slowed, John was still squeezing and Dean giggled, patting his dad’s shoulders and joking he couldn’t breathe.

“I love you, too, Dean.”

The boy gave his dad a sweet kiss on his cheek, “I know.”

John chuckled as he set his son down for the last time and wiped the tears from his eyes, “That’s my little Han Solo.”

Dean giggled again.

A stern voice from behind him, “You let him watch Star Wars?”

Dean spun around, grinning ear to ear, “S’ar Wars is the best!” He swung his backpack off his shoulders and shoved it toward the other woman so she could see the Star Wars cast emblazoned across the vinyl surface.

The red-head reached forward and took the bag and then stood, “Are you ready to get in the car?”

Dean held his smile and nodded, following the woman around the SUV. She opened the door and then helped Dean climb inside, buckling him into a safety seat.

“You’re going to go on an adventure, just like Han Solo,” the woman smiled.

“Awesome!” Dean cheered, wiggling in his new seat while outside the tinted windows John Winchester fell apart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tries to settle into his new life.

Dean spent the first few nights away from his family with the red-headed woman. She said she brought him home but Dean had a feeling this wasn’t really her home. It didn’t have any pictures of her family. Dean remembered lots of pictures at his home before the fire. His dad even put a few up in the hotel rooms they stayed at. 

It took a lot of getting used to but every night before bed, Dean pulled his own small photo of him and his mother out of his backpack and gave it a kiss before tucking it under his pillow. He’d also repeat her mantra, “An angel is watching over me,” before closing his eyes. His dad had explained that mom had become an angel too, so he hoped maybe his guardian would give her a turn sometime. The idea helped him get to sleep when his his loneliness started to get the better of him. He would never tell anyone, but he cried a lot that first night. And the second… And the third.

After the first week, the woman bundled him back up and put him in his car seat, “Time to go on another adventure.”

“Another adventure? Am I going home??” Dean’s eyes blew wide with the possibility of seeing his dad and brother again.

The woman smiled sadly, “Not yet. But I found you a nice temporary home until your dad can come get you. Do you want to live with other kids your age? Do you want to make some friends?”

Dean pressed his lips together and shifted them to the side. Friends? He hadn’t really had any friends before. He had mom and dad and Sammy. He hadn’t really needed friends but now… well maybe some friends would be nice.

“Yes?”

The woman chuckled and finished strapping him in, “I think you’re going to love it. I just had to keep you here until I could make sure you weren’t going to be a trouble-maker.” She reached out and tickled his sides and Dean erupted in laughter. She smiled fondly before booping him on the nose and closing the door to begin their next journey.

\-----------

Dean liked the group home he was placed in immediately but he kept telling himself it wouldn’t be for long. Dad would be back soon. One of the adults showed him where he’d be sleeping, a child-sized cot in the back room, and where he could put his stuff. Dean stashed his backpack in the wide trunk at the foot of his bed and closed the lid before going into the playroom to meet the other kids. 

The group home was a small facility, big enough just for a kitchen, play room, group sleep area for the kids, and a room for the caretakers to sleep. The playroom wasn’t much more than a few low bookshelves and tables for the kids to draw at or do puzzles on and the carpet had long ago been stained beyond saving but the nice ladies who worked there still tried to wipe up new messes as they came.

There were seven children living at the home, eight now that Dean had joined their ranks. They were mostly toddlers, from 4-7 years old, and one infant. They were engaged in their own various activities around the playroom and didn’t pay Dean any attention when he entered. He glanced around, hoping to catch someone’s eye so he could say hi, or just wave, but they steadily ignored him. Ms. Carrie, a plump middle-aged woman with fair skin and curly brown hair, patted him on the head and walked him over to one of the empty tables to leave him to his own devices. He was starting to like the home a little less.

Dean looked around, still hoping someone would notice him but also trying to figure out what he was supposed to do. Back home he had a job - take care of Sammy. Here? He was told to make friends but it didn’t look like anyone wanted to meet him. They were all engaged in various crafts or games and content to pretend he didn’t exist.

Dean frowned as he looked at the half-completed puzzle on the table top before him. The discarded box showed the image of a bird pulling a worm out of the ground and the worm had already been recreated with 4 of the 12 available pieces so Dean began attempting to slot the remaining pieces in place. His brow creased with concentration and his tongue poked out the side of his lips as he worked, the other kids and his surroundings falling away as the activity provided a welcome distraction. 

Four more pieces clicked into place and Dean had to brush his gently curled blonde hair from his eyes when he reached for one of the remaining shapes. He tried the piece in every available spot until it snapped flush to its partners. The last piece slipped into place and a grin split his face.

“Hey D-!....” Dean’s eyes flitted up and his reality came rushing back to him, cutting his words short. He was proud of himself and his first instinct had been to call for his dad to come look but his family was nowhere to be seen. Some of the other kids turned to look at him and the oldest boy laughed before murmuring to the girl next to him who giggled in turn. Dean’s smile fell away and his his brow drew together as tears began to well in his eyes. He bit down on his bottom lip to stop from crying. Boys don’t cry, just babies like Sammy. _I’m not gonna cry. I’m not…_

As if tuning into his plight, the infant laying in their playpen began to wail. Dean looked over at the onesie-bundled child and then to the adults who were sitting around the kitchen table. No one was moving to help the baby so Dean quickly forgot his own troubles and lept into action. His dad always taught him to help baby Sammy, that if Sammy was crying it meant he needed something. Babies couldn’t talk, of course, so Dean would have to figure it out, but his baby brother had always calmed down with him so he hoped he could help this new baby too.

Dean scampered away from the playroom and into the sleeping area. He stripped the top-sheet off his bed and laid it out on the floor before gently gathering it into a vaguely straight line. He then folded one end about halfway in and tied it together. After testing the knot, he put the loop over his head and one arm and walked back into the playroom and to the mesh pen.

When he re-entered the playroom, the older boy snickered again and pointed at him, “Look, now he’s wearin’ a dress.” The other little girl laughed along and pointed at him too.

Dean fixed them both with the best glare he could muster but he had a more important task at hand. He climbed carefully into the playpen with the baby and picked them up, slotting them slowly into the makeshift sling. Being swaddled coupled with Dean’s gentle words quickly soothed the baby so he sat down with them cradled in his lap, still in the pen.

“Looks like the new kid’s a baby after all,” the older boy was now laughing outright and that finally caught the attention of the women in the other room. Ms. Carrie came out and looked down at Dean in the pen and the sheet tied around his neck.

“Now what on earth are you doing in there?”

Dean was carefully bouncing the baby with one leg braced under their back, “Helping the baby, ma’am.”

“Now Dean, little Amara won’t learn to be quiet if you come running everytime she cries.”

Dean pushed away the covering over the baby’s face and rubbed her rosy cheek, softly smiling before looking up at his caretaker with a much sterner look, “You want me to not help a baby who cries?” He narrowed his eyes.

“That’s right, honey. The baby has got to learn they don’t have to cry everytime they want something.” Ms. Carrie was trying to use an authoritative tone, to let Dean know she knew better, but the boy was having none of it.

“I’s wrong to leave the baby alone,” Dean turned his attention back to Amara, much like he had with Sammy, the baby had his full focus. He was happy to have a job to do now, even if the adults didn’t want him to do it.

“So when she cries at 2 in the morning you’re going to get up with her?”

“If you won’t, yes.”

The woman huffed at the pair in the pen and threw her hands in the air before wandering back off to the kitchen. Dean gave a small smile of triumph as he continued to stroke the baby’s face. He found comfort in the familiar actions, especially since he knew his dad was doing the same for Sammy.

\----------

Dinner that night was mac ‘n’ cheese with sliced hotdogs. Dean sat at the long low table with the other kids, as far away from the older boy as possible. No one was talking to each other as bowls were placed in front of each of them but Dean was getting ready to burst. He had been able to focus on Amara all afternoon but now, looking at all the other kids his own age, he wanted to be their friend but no one was even looking at him. Was he that odd?

Ms. Carrie set down the last bowl before straightening and clapping her hands for their attention, “Now I know you all have seen our new arrival but I think it’s time for official introductions. Everyone, this is Dean.”

There were various mumbles from around the table that were met by Dean’s enthusiastic, “Hi guys!” He tried to maintain his smile as he looked around but the other kids remained fixated on their bowls. He felt his excitement ebb as he nearly gave into the temptation to watch his food as well.

Ms. Carrie then went around the table to introduce the others. The girl with brown eyes and short curly blonde hair was named Joanna. The red-headed girl and older boy were Abby and Luke. There were two more boys on the chubbier side, very similar in appearance with short brown hair and brown eyes, Edward with black-framed glasses and Harold without. Lastly, was a girl with dark skin and tight black curly hair named Cassie. Cassie at least waved when she was introduced and Dean was thrilled for the small interaction. That was the end of it, though, and they ate in silence while the adults chatted at the larger table nearby.

After the meal, Ms. Carrie had one more announcement.

“Now kids, you know tomorrow is Friday so be sure to be on your best behavior. We have three families coming who have already been accepted as adopting families and one who is looking to take on a new foster.”

Luke and Abby groaned but the other children looked excited. Dean was terrified. What if someone else adopted him before his dad came back? How would he ever be reunited with Sammy? 

“Except Dean, of course,” one of the other women piped up from in front of the sink.

The boy’s head snapped up, “What?”

“Your father hasn’t relinquished his paternal rights so you can’t be adopted yet.”

Dean didn’t understand most of what the woman said, but he understood ‘can’t be adopted.’

“Yes!” Dean threw a fist in the air. He should trust his dad more. Of course he wouldn’t let someone else take his son away.

Luke shook his head from the other end of the table, “What a freak.”

Joanna stuck her tongue out at him, “You’re just jealous because he’s cuter than you and would have gotten adopted first.”

“Am not. But even if I was, at least I’ll get adopted before you,” Luke returned the gesture. “Anyone with a brain knows I’ll be a sports player.”

“Oh yeah? Name a sport,” Cassie leaned forward.

“Now now, children, put your dishes in the bin and go wash up,” Ms. Carrie set a plastic tub on the kids table for each of them to put their used dishes in before they wandered off to form a line outside the bathroom.

While waiting for his turn at the sink, Joanna and Cassie sidled up next to him.

“Sorry Luke is such a meanie,” Cassie offered, smiling softly at him.

Dean just shrugged, “I’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“Maybe you should just punch him,” Joanna slammed her fist into her other palm, “Teach that bully a lesson.”

Dean shook his head. His dad taught him better than that. ‘You don’t go around hittin’ people,’ he said, and Dean was going to abide by that. His mom had taught him about bullies too, and Luke needed love not hate. “Maybe we can be friends ins’ead?”

“With Luke? Nah, he’s a meanie,” Joanna crossed her arms as they all took a step forward, mimicking Cassie’s earlier sentiment.

“But you can be with us!” Cassie smiled brighter and Dean’s face lit up in response.

“Wait, how old are you?” Joanna leaned in and scrunched her nose up.

“I’m five and a half.”

Joanna paused for a moment, continuing to scrutinize their new companion.

“Five and a half is almost six, so that’s okay, right Jo?” Cassie looked over at her hopefully.

Joanna straightened and nodded, “Alwight, I guess. We’re five so you can’t be doing any little kid stuff around us, okay? Otherwise you can hang out with Ed and Hawwy.”

Edward and Harold were standing quietly behind them and both cocked their heads to the side at the mention of their names but otherwise seemed unphased. Dean just laughed, “Deal!”

After washing his hands and face, Dean met back up with the girls in the playroom. He was realizing he did like it here after all. Cassie and Joanna weren’t so bad as far as girls went, and Ed and Harry were quirky but nice. The two younger boys were always talking in hushed whispers about ghosts and for a moment the idea scared Dean, but then he’d remind himself of his guardian angel and forgot all about it. He figured if he steered clear of Abby and Luke he would be okay, and of course there was little Amara to look after.

\---------

Dean’s first night was blissfully uneventful aside from the excited fidgeting coming from the other beds at the prospect of finding a family tomorrow. Even Luke seemed restless but since it was Dean’s first night, that could just be how the older boy was all the time. And despite Ms. Carrie’s warning, Amara slept through the night just fine.

When Dean woke the following morning, it was with Joanna’s face right in front of his own. Dean let out a loud whoop and flailed off the opposite side of the bed while Joanna cackled. Dean was slow to pull himself back up on the bed but when he did, he couldn’t help joining Joanna in her mirth. Their laughter was cut short when a pillow came sailing at Dean’s head.

“Some of us need our beauty sleep,” Abby grumbled from across the room, flopping dramatically back onto her bed.

“Not our fault you need more than others,” Joanna smirked and threw the pillow back. Dean giggled when the thin pillow landed directly over Abby’s face and muffled her angry retort.

“Breakfast!”

All the kids perked up at the call from outside their room and after a moment’s hesitation, all dashed for the kitchen in their pajamas.

Dean hadn’t had real waffles since his house burned down so when the smell hit his nose his mouth instantly watered and for a moment he could imagine his mom standing in the kitchen with her pink “Kiss the Cook” apron on. Of course it was only Ms. Carrie, but Dean was finding it easier to swallow the lump in his throat whenever he thought of his mother and quickly found his seat. Joanna and Cassie sat on either side of him.

They once again ate in relative silence while Ms. Carrie and the other woman talked about the families who would be coming in today. Dean thought they all sounded like very nice people and any of other the other kids would be happy to have them as their families, but Dean just kicked his short legs under his chair and thought about the day when his dad would come blazing through the front door to take him home. No other family would ever compare to his dad and Sammy. Definitely no one would ever compare to his mom. 

After breakfast everyone got dressed and reported to the playroom to meet the families. Three couples came in and one single woman. Two of the couples were older than Dean had expected, they looked like they could have been grandparents, and the third couple was both men which confused Dean at first but he ultimately shrugged and accepted it. The couples all ignored Dean but the last woman, a gentle looking older lady, came to Dean first.

“Well hey there. What’s your name?”

Dean looked up from the carpet where he was building a small fort out of blocks, “My name is Dean. Wha’s yours?”

“My name is Karen. Can I sit with you?” the woman smiled.

Dean nodded and stacked another block.

“Do you like building things, Dean?” Her voice was sweet and soft like a mother’s should be.

“Yeah, I guess. Somehimes,” Dean shrugged.

“How about coloring?”

“Mmhm,” Dean nodded.

“And superheroes?”

Dean grinned at that and in his deepest voice, “I’m Bathman.”

The woman laughed and placed a hand across her chest, “I’m sure you mean Batman?”

Dean’s forehead wrinkled, “Tha’s what I said.”

“Of course, dear, I’m sorry,” she chuckled again at Dean’s expression before settling in to just watch the boy play.

After a few moments, Dean stopped and looked up at the woman, “Ma’am, you can see the other kids. I’m just here unsil my dad comes back for me. I can’t be adop’ed.”

Karen smiled, “I know that, dear. I’m looking to foster you. Do you know what that means?”

“You want me to live with you. But I just wanna wait here for my dad. Thank you,” Dean smiled back and looked back down to his blocks.

The older woman sighed but picked herself up off the floor and went in search of another child to bond with. Dean nodded to himself in congratulations. He didn’t need a foster family as badly as the other kids. He could stay here just fine.

\----------

At the end of the day Edward and Harold, Joanna, and Amara had been adopted. Abby was taken into the private foster home with Karen. Dean didn't think adoption days were going to be sad but now he was dreading the next one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a few edits shortly after posting to correct a miscalculation with Dean's age. My apologies for the confusion.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets a new foster home.

Time starts to fly by the longer Dean stays at the group home. Without Amara, he is left adrift again and tries to busy himself with puzzles and blocks and avoiding Luke. Cassie is always a welcome distraction from the monotony but days continue to bleed into night and back into day.

A month later, another foster family stops by with the intent of taking Dean home. It’s a younger couple who arrive with gifts for all the kids but they give most of their attention to Dean. Dean, on the other hand, continues to tell them he just wants to wait for his dad but they both just smile and carry on like he said nothing.

Their gift for Dean was a Batman mask which he promptly put on and refused to take off but unluckily for him, they found it endearing and filled out the paperwork to move him into their home. The caretakers and Cassie had been happy for him but Luke just glared.

Dean threw a fit when Ms. Carrie told him to grab his stuff. He ran into the bedroom and climbed in the trunk with his bag and closed the lid. When Ms. Carrie found him and reached in for him he tried to bite her before curling up in a small a ball as possible. The caretaker was getting ready to tip the whole trunk when the foster couple offered to take over.

Pastor Jim Murphy and his wife Carole sat down around the trunk and began to tell Dean about what he could expect if he came to live with them and assured him that when his dad came back, he would know exactly where to find him. All that was going to happen was that Dean would get a room all to himself and get to start school in the fall at Brooks Elementary where he would get to meet a whole bunch of new friends.

Eventually, Dean peeked out of the trunk, “You promise Dad will be able to find me?”

“We promise, Dean,” Carole smiled sweetly and held her hand out for Dean to take.

The boy pushed the lid the rest of the way open and held onto Carole’s fingers as he stepped out with his bag and mask still firmly in place. He nodded once, still frowning, but didn’t break down again while they bundled him up and into their car to go home.

\----------

The Murphy’s house was simple but cozy. The ranch-style home was all one floor with a wrap-around porch and a bench swing in the front. Dean’s room was right next door to his new foster parents’ room and the bathroom, down the hall off the kitchen. The living room had a small cathode television and a low, well-loved couch across from it. There were bookshelves everywhere with complex titles Dean couldn’t read. 

Dean’s room itself was sparsely furnished. There was a small bed, dresser, and closet. The walls were cream colored with white trim and his bed sheets were picked to match. Not the most entertaining room for a near six year old, and Dean missed Cassie, but at least he wasn’t looking over his shoulder all the time to watch out for whatever mean prank Luke was going to play on him next. He rubbed his hand through his short spiky hair at the memory of Luke’s last gesture - gum.

\----------

Settling into the routine with the Murphy’s was much harder than it had been at the group home. Dean found the constant attention almost suffocating so he was glad to be able to retreat to his room whenever he wanted. No one had paid that much attention to him since his mom was alive and these were NOT his parents. He’d rather just be given something to do and then left to do it.

Jim and Carole seemed to realize this, though, and were sure to give him space and time to adjust as well as easy chores around the house. He got to help water the garden, start the laundry, scrub the floor and deck, anything his little hands could do he did. All with the understanding he was just helping until his dad came to get him.

After a few weeks, Jim introduced him to his workshop in the standalone garage. He wasn’t allowed to use any of the power tools, but Jim showed him some very easy woodworking basics like whittling and sanding. It quickly became Dean’s favorite place to be.

The more time passed, the easier it became for Dean to lose track of time. Between the long summer days in the workshop and Carole teaching him some of the school basics he’d missed over the past year, it seemed like no time at all that he was starting 1st grade. To his foster parents’ surprise, he was already proficient at reading at a first grade level and could count to 100. Dean had just smiled when they had told him how proud they were of his skills. It had all been learned reading for Sammy and counting money to pay for food deliveries but Mr. and Mrs. Murphy didn’t need to know that.

By the first day of school, Jim and Carole were practically vibrating with excitement while Dean could hardly care. School didn’t mean a lot to him and he thought it would be kind of like the group home. He was more worried that his dad might come to the house while he was away at school than about whether or not the other kids would like him. He had wanted to keep his Batman mask on but after several days of arguing with Jim, he’d finally taken it off and stashed it in his closet.

\----------

School was awesome.

Dean sat with three other kids while their teacher, Mrs. Fischer, wrote simple addition problems on the board. School had been in session for two months now and Dean excelled at any task he was given. He couldn’t wait to tell his dad and Sammy about everything he learned and maybe he would be able to teach Sammy this stuff when he got older too.

Mrs. Fischer turned to the students, “Who can tell me what five minus two is?”

Dean’s hand shot up.

“Yes, Dean?”

“Three!”

“That’s correct,” the teacher smiled and wrote the answer on the board, “And how about nine minus six?”

Dean’s hand went up again but he wasn’t called on.

“Celeste?”

“Also three!” the short red-head next to Dean chirped.

“Very good.”

Dean and Celeste smiled to each other. They had become fast friends when the year started and it had taken Dean no time at all to start using her nickname, ‘Charlie.’ She was a firecracker of a child with a wild imagination and brains to boot. Everyday she was telling Dean about what new adventure befell the Fellowship of The Ring and Dean in turn regaled her with stories of comic book heroism, mostly Batman related with snippets of The Justice League. And of course, they both provided healthy doses of Star Wars trivia.

The two kids began doing everything together at school but Dean never told her about his dad and Sammy or his foster parents. Something Luke had said to him after Abby was taken into foster care had stuck with him. “No one likes foster kids. You don’t really have a mom or a dad so that makes you broken. No one wants broken friends. Foster kids are messed up.”

Dean still felt bad for Luke. The more the older boy acted out the more it was obvious he just wanted a family. He had wanted to be nice to Luke but the older boy was just such a bully that Dean had given up.

Dean was pretty sure Charlie wouldn’t care if he was a foster kid, she hadn’t made fun of the way he talked until he went through speech-therapy, but he didn’t want to risk it. He really liked Charlie and couldn’t stand the thought of her hating him or not wanting to be his friend anymore. So, he kept his secret all through first grade. And second grade. Then third grade ruined everything

Up until he turned eight, Dean hadn’t had any friends over to his house or gone with his foster parents to anyone else’s house, but then Jim and Carole decided to throw him a surprise birthday party. Several kids from his class and their parents came over the Saturday before his birthday with cake and presents and Dean had panicked.

Charlie was the first to find him in his room, huddled in the corner.

“What are you doing in here, birthday boy?”

“Hiding,” Dean rubbed his hands over his face like he’d seen his dad do many times growing up.

“Yeah I know, but why?” Charlie sat on the thin carpet next to her friend, leaning just enough that their shoulders rubbed together.

“Because I don’t want to be seen with-” Dean gestured vaguely with his hands toward the rest of the house.

“With your parents? Oh come on, they can’t be that embarrassing,” Charlie chuckled and nudged his side.

“They’re…” Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “They’re not my parents.”

Charlie laughed again, “What do you mean they’re not your parents? Of course they are.”

“No, Charlie, they’re… I’m… I’m a foster kid,” Dean hung his head forward, waiting for his friend’s anger at being lied to, at having been tricked into befriending someone less worthy.

“Oh…. so?”

Dean’s head snapped up and he caught Charlie’s gaze. She was still smiling and hadn’t made any move to leave. If anything, she was leaning harder into him.

“You don’t care that I’m broken?”

Charlie reached over and punched him in the thigh, “What do you mean, ‘broken’? Aragorn was a foster kid and he became King of Gondor.”

Dean blinked a few time but started to smile, “But he was a prince to start with so that doesn’t really c-”

Charlie punched him again and cut him off mid-sentence, “Well if you don’t want to be the king, I’ll be the queen and you can be my hand maiden.”

Dean winced and rubbed his abused muscle but laughed at the idea of being a hand maiden, “As if. I’ll just be a hobbit and eat all day.”

“Amen to that.”

They exchanged smiles before Charlie turned so she could wrap her friend in a tight hug.

“You are not broken, Dean. You are loved.”

Dean felt his bottom lip tremble and he bit down on it to stem the emotion welling in his throat. Charlie really was the best friend he’s ever had. When his dad comes back, he’s going to have to introduce her to him and Sammy.

Once they joined the festivities, Dean did his best to brush off the weight of the conversation they’d had. Maybe being a foster kid wasn’t so bad after all. Luke had probably been lying to him just to scare him. It was just another prank to make him miserable and it had worked. It made Dean mad, briefly, but his mom’s teachings always came back to him. Compassion.

\----------

Fourth grade started off…. Strange.

Typically, the first day of school was rife with high-fives and hugs and lots of ‘welcome back’s. This year Dean was met with silence and cold shoulders. Even Charlie wasn’t meeting his eyes and they’d been separate all summer. He couldn’t keep the disappointment from showing on his face as he took his assigned desk toward the back of the room. He had been looking forward to filling her in on all the comics he’d read. 

Through the first week, no one talked to him. Dean wasn’t able to corner Charlie until recess the following week and she looked as uncomfortable as Dean felt.

“What the hell, Charlie?”

The girl tried to smile and look anywhere that wasn’t Dean’s face, “I, uh, hi, Dean.”

“Spit it out.”

“I, uh, may have let slip that you were in foster care?” Charlie’s forced a smile as her eyes flitted up to Dean’s for a split second before darting off again.

Dean clenched his jaw as his fists tightened, eyes narrowing to slits while he nearly vibrated out of his skin.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal!” Charlie wrapped her arms around herself as Dean took a step closer.

Dean took a deep breath to steady himself, “That explains them. Why are _you_ avoiding me? I thought you said-”

“Well they said-”

“They said WHAT?”

“That you were going to be a psychotic killer because you have no parents to teach you how to be a decent human being and I should stay away because you’ll ax murder me like Dorothy’s cousin’s friend who got chopped up by a guy who grew up in foster care.”

Dean was silent for several moments following Charlie’s declaration. His nostrils flared with restrained rage. He was doing his best to remember his mom's kind words but he was having a hard time hearing the through the adrenaline rushing through his veins.

Charlie raised her hands in a placating gesture, “I’m sorry but they said they might not be able to be friends with me either if I hung out with you anymore because I might catch your disease.”

“My-” Dean huffed out the word and turned around.

“Dean -”

Dean stomped away. This is exactly what Luke had warned him about. This was why the other kids at the group home had ignored him at first. He still technically had a family so he wasn’t broken like them but now… now he was tainted.

\----------

Dean started retreating from all social situations after that. He still went to class but he sat by himself at lunch and didn’t participate in recess. Group projects he just did on his own because no one wanted to work with him.

After the winter holidays, Dean’s teacher finally called a parent-teacher conference to discuss what was going on but Jim and Carole had no idea. Dean didn’t talk about it with them and they thought he was just going through a phase, maybe a little depressed since his father hadn’t come back yet. And while his dad not returning was a factor, Dean still never lost faith that he would show up someday. In fact, the only reason he still went to class at all was so he could keep learning and make his dad proud.

Unable to get to the bottom of Dean’s new behavior, they suggested counseling or possibly moving him to private school. Private school was out of the question on Jim’s meager earnings from the church but counseling through the school was free. 

It didn’t do any good.

Dean wouldn’t talk with the counselor and still refused to participate in class. His test scores were still high so academically he was surpassing expectations, but socially he was failing. Things came to a head when Dean got in his first fight. Another boy, Fergus, had looked at Dean struggling with a word problem and said, “Why don’t you go cry to your mommy? Oh wait!” and Dean had surged over the desk and tackled the boy to the ground, punching him repeatedly in the nose.

When he’d looked up he saw Charlie staring at him in horror. She had been right.

After the incident, Dean was shifted to a special class where he received one-on-one tutoring but was otherwise left alone to complete his workbooks. The tutor hung around to answer any questions and there were other students of varying ages but no one was allowed to talk unless it was to ask a question. That suited Dean just fine until the following year they put him back in general population.

Through fifth and sixth grade, the other students gave him his space. After his show of strength solidified their fears no one wanted to risk his wrath. Over the years, Dean had continued to work in Jim’s workshop and hauling lumber and hand-tooling kept his body lean. While his muscles weren’t bulging or anything, they were more defined than most nine/ten year olds and that coupled with his reputation was enough to scare the other kids away.

\----------

Graduating elementary school was supposedly some great thing. After the ceremony, his classmates were all going off to celebrate and were getting hugs and kisses from their families. Jim and Carole had hugged him with all the warmth they could muster but it still left Dean cold. His dad should have been here for this. Sammy should have been here for this. He knew, deep down, that dad was waiting for the right time to bring him back but it had been almost six years. He was ready to go home.

When they got back to the ranch house that evening, Carole told Dean they had a special present waiting for him. Dean hoped it was a new comic book, or maybe a DVD, but the slim envelope on the kitchen table didn’t promise either of those.

Dean looked from Carole to Jim where they stood side by side, arms wrapped around each other, as he pried open the envelope and pulled out the contents. He looked down at the folded papers and creased his brow.

“What is this?” Dean read over the words again and again as his hands started to shake.

“Adoption papers. We want to make you part of our family, Dean,” Carole smiled and wiped a hand quickly across her eyes.

Dean looked up at them in wild confusion so Jim stepped in, “Your dad’s paternal rights have been terminated. He can’t stand in your way of having a real family anymore.”

Dean looked back down to the pages in his hands. He started flipping through them until he landed on the sheet that read ‘Termination of Paternal Rights.’ He skimmed down the page until he got to the line ‘Cause of termination.’ There were two options that could be circled to the right. ‘Voluntary,’ ‘Involuntary,’....

“Voluntary,” Dean breathed out as he read the highlighted word.

“Oh Dean, you see? You’re free to have a real family now. You can just start calling us Ma and Pa!” Carole chuckled as she and Jim joined hands against her chest.

Dean didn’t hear them, didn’t register their happy tears as his brain kicked into overdrive. His dad couldn’t just give him up. He said he would come back for him. He can’t just abandon him!

_Sammy!_

“There has to be some kind of mistake. I’m sorry but you can’t adopt me,” Dean’s voice waivered as he threw the papers on the table and stormed up to his room.

Jim and Carole called after him as he retreated but their voices were drowned out by the slammed door and they made no effort to follow.

Dean paced frantically in his room, fingers woven through and clutching his short hair. This couldn’t be happening. He’s not supposed to get adopted. Dad’s supposed to come back. _If dad gave up on me, what about Sam?_

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been wearing a groove in his carpet when a soft knock came through his door.

“Dean? Honey? I know it’s a lot to take in, but just think about it, ok? Jim and I love you very much and you’ve become the son we always wanted over the last several years. We don’t have to make it official if you don’t want to, but, I really hope you do.”

Carole’s voice cracked a couple times so Dean knew she’d been crying but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Mrs. Murphy was not his mother and would never be his mother - could never be his mother. The same with Pastor Jim. It didn’t matter how much they loved him, he didn’t belong here.

A week passed and Dean only came out of his room for necessities. Jim and Carole would ask him gently if he’d thought more about their offer but anytime they did, Dean would leave the room. It didn’t stop them from trying, though, until finally, at dinner, Jim laid it all out.

“We already filed the paperwork. We’re adopting you.”

“You can’t do that if my dad is still alive,” Dean replied calmly as he ate a piece of grilled chicken.

“Now son, that’s not how this works.”

“I’m not your son, Mr. Murphy.”

“Deanie-bear, don’t say things like that,” Carole reached over to put a hand on Dean’s shoulder but he shirked her off.

“This is for your own good, Dean. I hope you can see that,” Jim sighed and speared a baby carrot with his fork.

Dean set his utensils down and left the kitchen without another word. He could hear the exasperated look Carole would be giving her husband but he didn’t care. They couldn’t adopt him. If they didn’t understand that, he would show them. He had to make sure he would be ready when his dad came back for him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An extra snippet that goes a bit more into detail of Dean's time with the Murphys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending of the previous chapter didn't sit well with my muse, apparently. I apologize for changing plot points after things have been posted, it's bad manners but I thought it was all planned out the way I wanted it to go but I guess I didn't!
> 
> A reader also rightly pointed out that it didn't make much sense that Dean wouldn't have bonded at all with his foster parents. I apologize for the disconnect and hope this helps clarify why Dean still wants to get away from his foster family and is cripplingly loyal to his dad and brother. As far as memory and adolescent reactions go, I am playing mostly off my own experiences and bits learned in child psychology classes. (I am by no means an expert and welcome discussion and corrections.)

Dean laid in bed that night staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars his foster parents had gotten for him for his seventh birthday. The Murphys had always been kind to him and treated him like their own son but Dean was never able to reciprocate. He had a picture in his mind of his perfect future and while it had expanded to have Jim and Carole in it, they filled the roles of aunt and uncle not mom and dad. The core of it all was still his real dad and Sammy.

That wasn’t to say he wouldn’t be happy staying here but it was nearly impossible for him to wrap his head around the alteration to his future. Especially since…

_Dad did not abandon you. Don’t even think it._

Dean rolled over and pulled his pillow over his head to try and drown out his thoughts. He couldn’t admit that his father had moved on and left him all alone. He wouldn’t abandon him like that, let alone Sam. Whenever Dean thought about Sammy by himself in a motel somewhere he started to shake. Or maybe he’d gotten thrown in foster care too? Maybe if he could get himself thrown back in the group home he could find Sammy... No, dad was still taking care of Sam. They would both come back for him.

Gritting his teeth against an impending scream, Dean pulled his pillow tighter around his head. He couldn’t bear the idea that his dad had failed him. He said he would come back for him. Maybe he had but the Murphys lied and hadn’t told his dad where he was so he gave up. But he wouldn't give up, would he?

As Dean twisted and buried his face in his mattress, he felt something crinkle against his cheek. He paused for a moment as he registered the material and then sat up, dumping his pillow to the side and peeling the worn photograph from his skin.

Mary Winchester’s bright smile shone from the faded paper, her arms wrapped around a younger Dean’s shoulders. He smiled at himself and the memory before tears pricked his eyes.

“What am I supposed to do, mom?” Dean sniffled and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “The family was supposed to stay together but now…”

Dean could almost hear his mother whispering back that he should embrace his new family and be happy, but how could he when his brother could be out there alone too? How could he when everything he ever wanted was ripped right out from under him?

“I want to go home…” Dean whispered as he set the photo back on the bed. He glanced around the room at the pictures on the walls. There was an assortment of hand-drawn figures interspersed with photos of him with Jim and Carole but it wasn't home. While the drawings that were hung up depicted Dean with two adult figures, there was a whole stack of drawings under his mattress of him, his little brother, and his dad.

Dean rubbed his nose as he sniffled again, looking at one of the photos on the wall. They really were trying their best to make him happy and feel wanted. He wanted to make them happy in return but not like this. Not as their son.

Dean knuckled his eyes and drew in a deep breath to settle himself. There had to be a way to get back to his family without hurting the Murphys. If Sam did end up in foster care, maybe they could adopt him too. Then at least he would have his brother and then they could hunt down their dad together..

After all, it wasn’t the Murphys’ fault they didn’t know about his dad and brother. Dean had heard his foster parents speculate in hushed tones about what horrible people Dean’s parents must have been to put him in foster care but whenever Dean overheard them, he would just smile. He knew how awesome his family was and no amount of gossip would change that. 

Dean grabbed his pillow from where it had fallen to the floor and gently laid it back over the small photo on his bed. He nestled back under his covers and laid down with a soft sigh. Thinking about his family before he left always managed to bring a smile to his face. He thought about his mom and the first time she put his baby brother in his arms and told him what a great responsibility it was to be a big brother. He thought about his dad pushing him around the garage on the rolling creeper he used to lay on under cars until his mom had yelled at them to behave.

He thought about how he would crawl into Sam’s crib to play with him when he was supposed to be taking a nap.

He thought about his dad tucking him in at night. About Sammy crooked in his arms in the motel room.

It was the constant reminders of what he didn’t have anymore that made him want his family more than anything. Now that the pending adoption threatened to take all of that away for good Dean couldn’t think of anything else. How was he supposed to live the rest of his life with just Jim and Carole?

_An angel is watching over me…_

Dean would figure something out. He had to.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. Got sucker punched by life but I should be back to weekly updates!

The fire had taken Dean by surprise.

Before he had even had a chance to think of a real plan, to talk to his potential parents about an alternative arrangement, a fire had erupted somewhere within the house. The vast array of decorative curtains and throw rugs had caught like kindling and Dean awoke just before dawn to the smell of smoke.

Dean’s mind was launched back to the fateful night he lost his mother and he scrambled out of bed in search of Sam. He ran for the room next to his yelling for his brother and his mom. Smoke choked his lungs as he threw open the door to go inside. Just as he was stepping in, strong arms wrapped around his middle and hauled him back before a section of ceiling collapsed.

“No! Sammy! SAMMY!! NO LET ME GO SAAAAAAAMMMMMM!”

Pastor Jim’s voice fought to be heard over Dean’s screams and the flames that roared out of the room as he pulled the child toward the stairs and out of the house. “There’s no one in there, Dean! Come on!” Carole appeared moments later helping to usher them all out into the safety of the front lawn, a fluffy pink robe wrapped around her shaking frame.

Dean continued to kick and cry, fighting to get back in the house to save his brother but Jim held fast as their neighbors trickled into the streets. Dean clawed at his foster father’s arms and tried to bite him a few times, taking deep, hiccupping breaths between his pleas to be released, but Jim didn’t relent. He just continued to try to calm him down, telling him no one was inside, they were all safe.

Dean’s cries turned into wordless screams. Through his tears he watched the flames shoot from the windows and lick at the sky. He looked for Sam’s nursery window, for some sign that his baby brother was going to be alright, but when his eyes shifted to the far right he suddenly fell quiet. The shutters framing the window were red. Sammy’s shutters had been blue with little yellow flowers their mother had painted on them. That wasn’t Sammy’s room.

Dean stilled as his gaze raked over the rest of the building. This wasn’t his house. Sam wasn’t inside, neither was his mom. But why was the house on fire…? He drew in a shuddering breath before going boneless in Pastor Jim’s lap. The older man caught him and eased him into a gentle hold against his chest, murmuring gentle assurances as he carded his soot-stained fingers through Dean’s hair.

The boy glanced over at the gathering crowd and saw Carole embracing some of their neighbors. Some of the neighbors looked sympathetic and compassionate, but others looked angry and kept glancing over at Dean. One woman who was talking animatedly with Carole shouted and pointed at the boy. Jim clutched him tighter as Carole gestured for the woman to calm down.

Dean turned away from the scene and focused back on the flames as sirens approached from the distance.

_They think I did it._

\----------

Dean slumped in the blue plastic chair and let his forehead rest on the work table before him. There was a low level of noise as other kids went about their summer projects and chatted about trivial nonsense. He was back in a group home. Jim and Carole terminated the adoption paperwork following the fire and investigation.

He had sat at the police station for hours talking to the investigator after they’d done a walkthrough of the house the following day. Dean’s case worker had come in with his file and when they had learned that this wasn’t the first house fire Dean had been witness to, they began to have suspicions. It was also disclosed to the Murphy’s and while Jim had been staunchly against any accusations, Carole had been talking to the neighbors and they all thought he started the fire too. Afterall, their children were afraid of him for a reason, right?

Dean let out a sigh as he shoved the memory from his mind. It had been nearly three months since he was returned like the defect he is. They never found any proof but it didn’t stop the Murphy’s from sending him back. Dean knew he should be happy, it’s what he wanted after all, but in hindsight he should have just sucked it up and tried to be a good son.

He missed having his own room. He missed Carole’s cooking. He missed his stupid glow-in-the-dark constellations. He absently rubbed the calluses on his fingers. He missed the wood shop.

Clatter to his left brought Dean’s head slowly up and he leaned back in the stiff seat. Sitting in the chair next to him was a young teen with curly brown hair and matching eyes. He grinned at Dean and folded his fidgeting hands on the table.

“What do you want, Andy?”

Andy’s eyes squeezed shut as he smiled wider. Dean couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped from his throat at his friend’s antics. Andy was an odd duck, for sure. Dean originally attributed it to some kind of drugs and, well, he’d been half right. Word around the house was Andy’s mom had been an addict when she was pregnant and as a result the baby suffered withdrawls and other complications. Dean didn’t really care. Andy was nice and was the only other occupant who didn’t give a damn about house gossip.

There were plenty of stories going around about Dean and most just made him laugh. The older teens had gone through his bag almost immediately after he’d put it on his bed and came to wild conclusions. Not much had survived the fire but Dean took what few possessions he could. His original Star Wars backpack and trinkets had come away mostly unscathed. The plastic decal was partially melted and practically unrecognizable, but the flimsy children’s books and his Batman mask were safe inside. He’d gotten plenty of ridicule for it all at first until Michael had calmly pointed out that the other kids were just jealous that they didn’t have mementos from happy times in their lives.

Michael was also a good guy. He was 17 and an emancipated teen who stayed to work at the group house and guide new comers. He didn’t talk about his own past, but he’d roomed with some pretty colorful characters and had a wealth of knowledge.

Andy relaxed his expression and quickly wet his lips, “So word around the campfire is that Lilith got her hands on Mrs. Paverly’s keys and is going to raid the office. Want to come?”

“Really? You’re going to follow Lilith?” Dean quirked a brow and folded his arms over his chest. Lilith was a blonde teen who always acted matronly until the real adults weren’t watching. She had gotten so many of the other kids in trouble in just the short time Dean had been at the home he could hardly believe it.

“They keep all the confiscated stuff in there,” the suggestive waggle of Andy’s eyebrows made Dean laugh again.

“Thanks but I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself!”

Andy hopped up from the table and skipped off, leaving Dean to return his forehead to the wooden surface. He knew he should be working on his summer project instead of lazing about but he didn’t see the point. He probably wouldn’t even be returning to the same school he got the assignment from. Not like summer projects even really affected his grades.

Dean’s attention is drawn to the other side of the room when he heard hushed voices. In a small huddle are Andy, Lilith, and a handful of other teens in front of the office door. There’s a muted sound of clanking metal followed by a click and then the troupe disappeared. Dean shook his head and got up from the table to get as far away from the mischief as possible. He didn’t need more on his record for his caretakers to worry about.

\---------

The results of the office raid didn’t become apparent until after dinner that night.

The group were sitting around the table still when one of the boys, Chris, brought up the stash of skin mags they’d found. Another boy, Josh, had laughed and warned them all not to give them to Dean, “He’ll probably just set them on fire.”

Dean had only idly been paying attention to the other end of the table, mostly absorbed in Andy’s quiet ranting, when the comment was made but as soon as the word ‘fire’ registered his head snapped up.

“Excuse me?”

Josh grinned, “What? You gonna try to tell us you’re not a little pyro?”

Dean’s nose scrunched up, “I’m not.”

Chris leaned forward over the table to get a better look, “Dude, you set your mom on fire and tried to do the same to your foster mom. You’re totally a pyro.”

“What… did you say?” Dean’s eyes narrowed and he took deep breaths to try to stay calm but red seeped in around the edges of his vision, narrowing to a point on Chris’ face.

“What? You don’t like us talking about your crispy chicken fried momma?”

Dean couldn’t stop the ringing that exploded in his ears or the rage that boiled inside him as he leapt to his feet and knocked over his chair. In an instant he was on the older boy, knocking them both to the floor and wrestling for superiority. Chris had about a foot on Dean but the younger used his greater strength to get on top and straddle Chris’ waist. In no time, Dean had both hands wrapped tightly around the other boy’s throat. Chris was able to gasp in a breath every now and then when Dean’s hands slipped in the blood gushing from his nose and lips.

Luckily for the teen, the house guardians came sweeping in and pulled Dean off. Once removed, Dean didn’t try to re-engage but he kept his glare fixed on the coughing figure. His fists clenched and released rhythmically at his sides and his nostrils flared but he held his place. He was vaguely aware he was being yelled at but no words were making it passed the shrill throbbing in his ears.

Suddenly, a hand came hard across Dean’s cheek that jolted him out of his haze. His gaze flicked up to Mrs. Paverly and he blinked quickly.

“I said, go to your bunk. You’ve lost all your privileges until I say otherwise.” 

“Y-yes, Mrs. Paverly,” Dean nodded stiffly and turned to leave. He spared a glance at the other kids as he left. Most were in utter shock except Andy who giggled and Lilith. Lilith was just amused.

\----------

Dean had been right that he wouldn’t be returning to the school he’d gone to orientation at when he’d finished elementary school. Following his scuffle with Chris, he’d found himself in 4 other altercations the week before school started when the other boys had taunted him about his mom. The day before school was to start, Dean had been pulled into the office.

Mrs. Paverly sat behind the modest desk with her hands steepled before her face and Michael stood behind her, “You’re very lucky, Dean. We’ve found a foster home for you.”

Dean shifted uneasily and grasped his hands behind his back, eyes flicking between Mrs. Paverly and Michael's grave expression, “Oh?”

“Yes. Mr. Tate has agreed to take you on. The system feels it would be beneficial for you to be home-schooled given your… behaviors. If you’ll pack your things, we’ll get you transported to his house in Springfield overnight so you can start the semester with the other children tomorrow.”

Dean nodded and picked at the scabs on his knuckles. He obviously wasn’t being given a choice, but the idea of homeschooling didn’t sound all that bad anyway. The normal kids at his last school had been horrible to him. It made sense to keep him with other misfits like himself and Springfield was far enough away he wouldn’t risk running into any of his previous acquaintances. Michael's expression worried him, though, like this wasn't a good thing. He wasn't able to hold Dean's gaze when he looked at him and ended up staring at his shoes.

Dean dug a nail into one of his scabs to help him focus on something other than the creeping sense of foreboding, “Sounds good, Mrs. Paverly. Thank you, Mrs. Paverly.”

The woman nodded back and gestured for him to leave the room.

\-----------

Packing took hardly anytime at all. Dean hadn’t gained anything since arriving at the home so it was just a matter of making sure his keepsakes were stashed in the melted toddler backpack and saying goodbye to Andy and Michael. The other boy had given him an awkwardly long hug but hadn’t otherwise seemed upset at his departure. When he went to say goodbye to Michael, though, he was no where to be found.

In no time, Dean was being loaded into a black Suburban SUV and carted off into the night.


End file.
